Des Paris avec Amour
by ForeverWar
Summary: 7 years have passed since the Opera Populaire burn to the ground and the Opera Ghost disappeared. But now he's back, returning once again to his opera house. What he didn't expected was his heart to be captured by a dancing swan. Erik/OC. T-M. R&R
1. Le Fantôme vit Encore

**I do not own nor do I gain any profits from the Phantom of the Opera or this fan-fiction. This is just the work of my over-active mind.**

**Also, I have used Google Translate for the french, so if it is wrong, sorry :( but, I suck at french.**

**(This is the un-beta-d version. I wrote it on my notebook and it doesnt have enough memory to handle MS Word. I will go on my PC tomorrow and check it over)**

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><p><strong>De Paris avec Amour<strong>

**Le Fantôme vit Encore (The Phantom still Lives)**

After 7 years of hard labour and sheer will, _Opera Populaire _was back to normal. The burnt seats were back to their usual plush, red colour. The stage was fixed and cleaned, the large chandelier was broken beyond repair but was replaced with a much larger and beautiful one with stronger ropes and chains, and the other areas in the _Opera Populaire _were back to their rightful ways.

Most of the old staff had returned; including Carlotta Giudicelli, Madame Giry and her daughter, Meg Giry. The _Opera Populaire_ had new owners, _Monsieur_ Jean-Pierre Volclain and _Monsieur_ Alexandre Richelieu. Both from wealthy and high-ranking families, both of them had been friends since they were very young. On an impulse buy, they bought the _Opera Populaire_ and decided to return it to its former glory.

_Monsieur_ Jean-Pierre stood on the stage, hands clasped behind his back and his black suit was impeccable. His blue eyes roamed over the vast area in front of him, watching as members of his staff - new and old - dusted and plumped the red seat to perfection. Even though they were not rehearsing an opera at the moment, he wanted to view the _Opera Populaire_ in its full glory before chaos ensure with rehearsals.

"I would have thought that you would have had enough of looking into the audience" a voice sounded from behind him. Jean-Pierre turned to see his best friend, Alexandre, smirking at him as he dusted off his jacket sleeves. Alexandre's deep, brown eyes sparkled with mischief as he walked towards his best friend.

"Well, Alexandre. How did the banking go?"

Alexandre let out a deep sigh, running a hand through his shoulder length brown hair, before speaking.

"Do not even start with that. _Sanglante Anglais!_ Never again shall I trust them with or money again. _Banquiers stupide!_"

Jean-Pierre let out a deep laugh, nearly throwing his head back as he listened to Alexandre curse the bankers under his breath. He looked around the stage, taking in every rope and rigging above the stage. He let a smile on his face.

_'Mon Dieu! I still cannot believe that we bought the Opera Populaire'_

Jean-Pierre could remember being a boy, no older that seven, and walking with his mother and father to the _Opera Populaire_ and seeing the latest opera. Each time he went, he made new memories, so the feeling of nostalgia always hit him when he walked through the door, sometimes even before he reached the door.

Alexandre felt the same, as this was the very opera house where he and Jean-Pierre became friends.

To both of them, the _Opera Populaire _meant the world to them, and now that it was theirs, no one would take it from them.

On the walkway in the dome area of the _Opera Populaire, _where the chandelier took up its rightful place, a man decked out in a black cape with a pristine suit underneath looked down at the new owners of the _Opera Populaire. _A gloved hand reached up and gingerly touched the white mask that covered the right side of his face before his green-ish grey eyes glared at the two men down below.

"...I welcome _you_, to _my _opera house..."

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><p><strong>Sanglante Anglais - <strong>Bloody Englishmen**  
>Banquiers stupide - <strong>Stupid bankers**  
>Mon Dieu - <strong>My God


	2. Les Frères ou Sœurs de Cygne

**I do not own nor do I gain any profits from the Phantom of the Opera or this fan-fiction. This is just the work of my over-active mind, I only own my OC's.**

**This chapter is two months after the last chapter, and the Opera Populaire as already done two Operas in that time frame.**

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><p><strong>De Paris avec Amour<strong>

**Les Frères ou Sœurs de Cygne (The Swan Siblings)**

Madame Giry stood proud on the stage, her sleek, black staff tapping the ground in beat with the music, using it as a means for the ballerina's in front of her to keep pace. She watched her daughter help some of the new dancers find the right beat before continuing on with her own dancing. A smile bloomed on her face as she watched her beautiful daughter jump and twist around the stage, as elegantly as a swan.

_"...Think of me...Think of me fondly...When we've said goodbye..."_

Speaking of swans, her blue eyes drifted over to two new additions to their 'family'; the LeBeau siblings. She watched as the younger one practiced her scales with the other singers. Her name was Odile LeBeau.

She was a bit pale, but with a small hint of a tan; showing that she had spent her time most indoors. She had a pretty face, plump, red lips with high cheek bones that were brushed lightly with rouge and her light brown eyes dusted with brown powder that made her eyes twinkle. A mane of slightly dark brown hair curled around her shoulders and back in waves. She looked beautiful, but from what she had witnessed, Madame Giry knew that her beauty...was only skin deep.

Madame Giry compared her to a young Carlotta in the making. She cared about one aspect of her life, and one aspect only; being the Prima Donna of the _Opera Populaire_. She was determined, and Madame Giry admired her for that, but in her determination, she was willing to do anything. She would threaten the other singers and would flirt with the managers just so she could get a good part in the operas.

Madame Giry admitted that she was a good singer, and with some strict training, she could be one of the best. But her dancing could use a lot of work. She was heavy on her feet and wasn't very elegant and she refused to train, by herself or with others.

"_Mère_? Is possible for Odette and me to take a break?"

Madame Giry turned to see her daughter in front of her, her long blond hair pulled back into an elegant twist at the base of her neck. Her bright brown eyes were wide as she looked at her mother, a smile on her face.

"Oui. But only for_ dix minutes_"

Meg smile before placing a kiss on her mother's cheek.

"_Merci, ma Mère_"

Madame Giry smiled as she watched her daughter walked over to her new friend. Odette LeBeau was Odile's older sister, and was a swan on the stage and in person.

She was taller than her sister, about 5'8". She had a slightly more tan-ish complexion compared to her sister. She had wide, brown eyes that shined with determination, high-ish cheekbones and a plump mouth that hid a sharp, witty tongue. Long, dark brown hair was twisted into a loose ponytail at the base of her neck, tied with a simple black ribbon. Her face was free from make-up apart from some black kohl and a light dusting of rouge. She was a striking beauty, but she never let any man get too close to her. She spent every waking moment dancing and practicing, to the point where Madame Giry had to force her to spend a week off her feet or risk injury.

Her sharp tongue had proved to be her favoured tool of the trade when she was around men. She could send a man reeling with a quick lashing of it. Unlike her sister, Odette seemed to...shy away from male company. Madame Giry asked her why and she replied, "I am here to dance and hone my skills, not belittle my innocence and spread my legs for all to use". The comment earned a deep chuckle from Madame Giry.

As she watched the walk away, Madame Giry remembered when one of the old dancers, Oliver Lambert, came back, he spend the entire time watching the new cast with a armful of various flowers. After they were all done dancing or singing, he went over to them and handed each of them a different flower, while reciting a quick poem he made for them.

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><p><em>Oliver Lambert watched the new members of the Opera Populaire. His green eyes danced over each face, taking in their actions. <em>

_Unknown to everyone, Oliver was able to pin-point peoples personality throw their actions and movement. It wasn't right all the time, and didn't give him a full description, but it gave a hint to it. _

_Once they were finished, he walked over to them, handing each one a different flower and reciting a small poem he had made up quickly in his head._

_He saw a slightly tanned woman over in the distance, a white ballet outfit on. He fingered the white rose in his hand before slowly walking over to her, just as he was about to speak, he was interrupted__._

_"Oh Monsieur, I do hope that rose blanche is for me"_

_He turned to the petite beauté in front of him and gave her a cheeky smile, before gently plucking the narcissus from his arms and handing it to her, smile still in place._

_"Le Narcisse, pour une fleur si vain, elle fera tout pour gagner."_

_The petite beauté gasped and then gave a shrill shriek, grabbing the flower and throwing it on the ground before stamping on it. She turned around and walked away, leaving Oliver chuckling._

_"I do hope that you do not speak to everyone who receives a flower from you like that, because, I fear that it might have some very...harsh consequences"_

_Oliver turned to face the woman he was originally going to speak to before he got interrupted. _

_"Ah, but Mademoiselle, what would live be, if there was no harsh consequences. A very boring one"_

_She smiled at him, a small one, as if guarding herself._

_"Now Mademoiselle, your flower"_

_He picked up the white rose and handed it to her, a shy smile on his face._

_"La Rose Blanche, pour une si jeune cygne innocents, mais les épines de transmettre une langue très forte."_

_She smiled at him, before it turned into a smirk. She gave him a small kiss on his cheek before whispering in ear._

_"You're lucky I know you prefer the same gender, or I would have used my thorns to hurt you"_

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><p>She smiled at the memory. Olivar had done it before, before the <em>Opera Popularie<em> was set aflame. When she asked him why he did it, he just smiled at her and stated, "I like to think that I help people realise who they truly are".

She walked towards the other ballerina's and helped them with their steps and placements while still tapping out the beat with her staff. Walking under the bridge, a piece of white caught her eye. Slowly turning around, a cold sweat shoot through her body as she spotted the white envelope with the edges outlined in black and a crimson red wax skull grinning evilly up at her.

Looking around, she made sure that no one was around. She bent down and pick up the letter, the slightly yellowed envelope felt rough on her fingers. Her delicate fingers broke the seal before pulling out the letter.

_"Antoinette, my friend._

_I write to you in thanks for helping me through these years, and I must ask you to help once again. My Opera Populaire is back to its former glory, and once again, I must inform these idiots that they belong in the office and not in my opera house._

_In the next couple of days, letters shall arrive to them and you must make sure that they get them. I will also request that you inform them that I would like box five to remain empty and my monthly payment of twenty thousand francs a month._

_Thank you, my friend,_

_Opera Ghost"_

She noted that his writing had improved over the years; it used to be slightly like chicken scratch but now it was very elegant and looked like a very well educated nobleman had written it.

She pocketed the envelope, before turning around and spotting her daughter and Odette walking towards her. She smiled at them before telling them to get back into position.

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><p>A figure looked out from the shadows of box five, his eyes gazing out to the stage as he watched Madame Giry tap her cane and the dancers move in time with it. His eyes turned to the new singers, mainly the new soprano. She was a pretty little thing...and she knew it. Her voice was strong and sultry, beckoning people to listen to it.<p>

_'With some work, her voice could be amazing, a true work of art...' _he looked down_ '...but would I risk it again? Risk trying to bring someone into my world again only to have it broken yet again...No, never!...' _he looked up, fire in his eyes _'...Not after Ch-her!'_

He stood to leave, cloak billowing behind him. He heard a clatter and a shriek.

_"Vous idiot! Regardez ce que vous avez fait à ma robe! Il est ruiné!"_

Turning around, he saw the singer from before, shouting at some boy who had tripped over a prop, landing on her dress and tearing it slightly. The boy - who looked about twelve - was scurrying away before he fell into the arms of another woman.

"Odile! _Calmez-vous, ma sœur! _It was an accident, it is only a dress,_ mon Dieu, toi fille peu idiot_...crying over a bit of fabric sewn together with fills and such,_ grandir_"

He peered at the woman, his heart beating faster for a strange reason that he could not comprehend. She was kneeling and clutching the boy to her bosom as he shook with fear. The one called 'Odile' turned her eyes to the woman, her knuckles white as she gripped the skirt of her dress.

"Only a dress? Only a dress? _Vous pute stupide! Pas étonnant que vous allez passer le reste de votre vie tout seul! _Only a dress! Maybe if you paid more attention to what you were, _grande sœur_, you would finally have a husband and children, instead of spending your time...dancing!"

The stage was silent, as everyone watched the other woman hush the boy before passing him off to Madame Giry. She stood up before glaring at the girl - who he had learned was her younger sister. The tension was thick, that not even a knife could cut it.

"The reason I haven't wed yet, sister dearest, is because the mean mother bring home for me to marry are only after the_ l'innocence qui est entre mes jambes_. And, another thing, at least I spend my time dancing and training my body that spending it_ avec mes jambes écartées comme un train bien et putain riden."_

Odile screamed before picking up her skirt and storming out, shouting insults along the way.

Erik's heart began to beat a tattoo against his chest as the woman turned, and he gazed into her brown eyes without her knowledge. Her tan-ish skin was slick with a faint shine of perspiration, her hair was frazzled and slightly out of its bow and her chest was heaving, his eyes wandering around and down her figure. As she turned to leave, one thought flew through his mind.

_"...Ange...?"_

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><p><strong>Mère - <strong>Mother**  
><strong>**Dix minutes** - Ten minutes  
><strong>Merci, ma Mère <strong>- Thank you, Mother  
><strong>Rose blanche<strong> - White Rose  
><strong>Little beauty <strong>- Petite beauté  
><strong>Le Narcisse, pour une fleur si vain, elle fera tout pour gagner<strong> - The Narcissus, for a flower so vain, she will do anything to gain  
><strong>La Rose Blanche, pour une si jeune cygne innocents, mais les épines de transmettre une langue très forte<strong> - The White Rose, for an innocent swan so young but thorns to convey a very sharp tongue.  
><strong>Vous idiot! Regardez ce que vous avez fait à ma robe! Il est ruiné!<strong> - You idiot! Look what you did to my dress! It is ruined!  
><strong>Calmez-vous, ma sœur!<strong> - Calm down, sister!  
><strong>Mon Dieu, toi fille peu idiot <strong>- My God, you silly little girl.  
><strong>Grandir <strong>- Grow up.  
><strong>Vous pute stupide! Pas étonnant que vous allez passer le reste de votre vie tout seul!<strong> -You stupid whore! No wonder you will spend the rest of your life alone!  
><strong>grande sœur <strong>- Big Sister  
><strong>l'innocence qui est entre mes jambes<strong> - Innocence that is between my legs  
><strong>Avec mes jambes écartées comme un train bien et putain riden.<strong> - with my legs spread like a well train and riden whore.  
><strong>Ange...?<strong> - Angel...?


	3. AN

Hey, I put a poll up on my page :D

If you wouldn't mind checking it out as it will help me in deciding what fanfictions people are wanting me to update and what one's people are really worried about.

So, if you want to make sure your fanfiction is top priority, better check it :p

Thanks,  
>ForeverWar xx<p> 


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